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She walks slowly over to a framed map of the forest. It shows the lake and the curved creek cutting through the trees. It shows the university observatory. My eyes drift to the small meadow not on the map where I met Koa for the first time. My Koa… A cramp twists my stomach.
“The town was founded by five very powerful families, wizards and shifters. A ley line cuts through the heart of Woodland Creek, and near it is a small passage t
o Hayden’s world, the underworld, where he rules.”
Instinctively, I wrap my arms around my midsection. I’m trembling, and I do want that scotch now. “What’s a ley line?”
“It’s a straight fault line in the earth’s tectonic plates. Magnetic energy and magical forces work through them. They draw mystical creatures and occult phenomena.”
“Why haven’t you told me about this before?”
“Like I said, I first hoped you might find him attractive, want to be with him. Then, I hoped I could get the High Council to end our family’s servitude. You’re the third Quinlan daughter to be handed over to him. I had hoped my legacy would be to end his claim on us. I’m sorry I failed you.”
It all makes sense now, and it’s so much worse than what I imagined. Dylan doesn’t hate me. She isn’t trying to dismiss my dreams. She knew I had no right to dream them in the first place. My hopes have only ever been castles in the sand. Now a cyclone is blowing them all away.
“What if I talk to him?” My voice is barely above a whisper. “I could ask Hayden to let me go. He might say yes.”
“Oh, Mercy,” she laughs bitterly. “You’re so sheltered and naïve. He might seem aloof at Thursday night dinners, but Hayden Cross is very serious about his property.”
NO! I am NOT his property! I have to stay strong. I won’t go down without a fight. I’m a fighter — self-defense is what I do every Saturday! I might not be able to take on the fucking Lord of the fucking Underworld using self-defense maneuvers, but I can talk to him, reason with him.
Self-preservationist anger burns in my chest. “Where is Hayden? Where does he stay? I’ll go there and talk to him myself. I’ll make him listen to me.”
Her brow creases. “This is his house.” She motions around the large room. “All of this is his — the grounds, the money. Our family has nothing. It’s how he ensures we won’t renege on the deal.” She sighs wearily. “But that’s not all…”
“Are you trying to say it could possibly get worse?”
“The way the pact is written, if we refuse to hand you over, he has the right to slaughter our entire family, possibly even the town, although I doubt he’d go that far.”
I have to sit down. She’s shown me his trump card, and I don’t know anything stronger. Slaughter us all? My blood runs cold.
I can’t think about that. I can’t let it weaken my will to live. Instead, I look around the room slowly. “Everything is Hayden’s?”
She gives me a sad little smile. “We live here because of you, Mercy. When he takes you, you’ll spend the rest of your life with him. Then after you die, he’ll return for the next Quinlan daughter.”
No… no… no…
“How do you talk to him? How do you get him to come here?”
“He comes here every Thursday for dinner.”
My heart is beating so hard it hurts. “Yes, but he said you called him. You asked him to pick me up from the gym so I wouldn’t ride the bus…”
“I’ve never called Hayden. I don’t know how.”
“Oh my god!” It’s too much. I crumple to the floor, overwhelmed. My arms are on the couch, and I can’t breathe. I press the heels of my palms against my chest where the pain radiates. “I can’t breathe.”
Dylan seems to move at a glacial pace. She leans forward, handing me the tumbler of scotch. I take it in my trembling hand and drink deeply. It doesn’t begin to kill the agony.
“I’m sorry,” she says before slowly leaving her office.
I sit on the floor for a long time trying to process what I’ve learned. After a while, I see the sky is growing dark. I’m glad because I want to crawl beneath my covers and never come out again.
In a zombie-like state, I walk slowly through Hayden’s mansion to the enormous foyer. I climb the stairs one at a time, making my way to my bedroom as if I’m moving through thick syrup. Once inside, I pick up my phone and type a text.
Can’t meet you tonight. Will explain later. I hit send and my phone slips from my fingers.
* * *
